


Gossamer

by Anna_Hopkins



Series: Discord Prompt Fills [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Acromantulas, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, For Want of a Nail, Gen, Giant Spiders, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Unbeta'd
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-19 19:28:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20215027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anna_Hopkins/pseuds/Anna_Hopkins
Summary: Hagrid forgets where Dumbledore asked him to bring Harry, and goes back to Hogwarts to wait for the Headmaster there instead. But first, he makes a stop in the Forbidden Forest...





	Gossamer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arualiaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arualiaa/gifts).

> For Lame-O and Aru, who prompted, respectively, "Harry is raised by Hagrid, who is totally not fit to be a parent" and "more accurately: Aragog raises Harry alongside his brood just like another spiderling, while Hagrid is the weird human uncle. Young Harry is 1000% convinced he's a strange breed of acromantula, he'll start producing his venom any year now, he just knows it... Alternatively named: the creature fic in which Harry isn't actually a creature lmao"

One ought to consider, when speaking of Rubeus Hagrid, the half-giant's tendency to get himself into silly situations without meaning to, and particularly those which pose a danger more to others than to himself. There is a world in which Hagrid uses Sirius Black's flying motorbike to transport an infant; and likewise, a world in which Hagrid keeps a Cerberus and hatches a Norwegian Ridgeback in the same six-month timespan. That these happen to be the same world is inconsequential, as even if neither event were to happen, there already exists an even more relevant example long predating them both.

This is speaking, of course, of the early 1940s and the Chamber of Secrets, and more specifically, of one man-eating spider affectionately known as Aragog.

Now, the  _ reason _ one ought to consider all of this, with regard to Rubeus Hagrid, is that, in this world, he still agreed to borrow Sirius Black's flying motorcycle, but found he could not remember for the life of him where it was he was supposed to bring Harry Potter, and decided instead to return to his hut on the grounds of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry -- and wait for Albus Dumbledore to appear and remind him.

He landed neatly beside his pumpkin patch, Harry nestled in one large pocket of his greatcoat with his face sticking out for air, and thought, looking into the Forbidden Forest,  _ ought ter visit Aragog, see how 'is family's doin'. _

So he did.

Heavy footfalls down well-worn paths brought Hogwarts' groundskeeper deep into the forest in a much shorter time than the circuitous paths most visitors took (and which would, in another world, have been the paths taken by two Gryffindor second-years). As he drew nearer to the clearing where the Acromantulae had made their den, the rustle of leaves and buzzing of summer insects gave way to chitinous legs over wood and the chittering of many mandibular mouths: sounds with which Hagrid was very familiar, though he did not speak the spiders' language.

The top of his head brushed against a bit of webbing between the two trees that marked the entrance to the nest; the jostling of the web alerted Aragog and his nestmates to Hagrid's presence just as loudly as the half-giant's booming voice a moment later. "Evenin', Aragog," he called, "came ter see th' hatchlings if yer not restin'."

"Certainly, Hagrid," came the soft-spoken reply from overhead. Aragog spoke something to his descendants, who moved aside to let him descend into the center of the clearing. The Acromantula had only just completed his most recent molt, putting him near the size of a small elephant; he stood at eye level to Hagrid, now.

"My people are at their most active, at the moment," Aragog continued, gesturing with one leg toward the densely webbed area where the hatchlings roamed, restless. "A few remain unhatched, as of yet." As the Acromantula turned to guide Hagrid nearer to his great-great-grandchildren, however, he paused.

"Rubeus," and the soft-spoken voice began to sound less human and more spider, "what is the living creature in your pocket?"

For Harry was stirring in his wrappings, green eyes beginning to open.

Eyes brightening, Hagrid beamed at Aragog. "Ah, yes, forgot! This 'ere is 'arry." One large hand scooped the one-year-old out of his greatcoat pocket, cradling his entire body in his palm. The scar on Harry's forehead gleamed black in the moonlight, still bleeding sluggishly. "I was s'posed ter bring 'im somewhere," confided Hagrid sheepishly, "but I plumb forgot." To Harry, he murmured, "C'mon there, lad, this're m'friend Aragog, known 'im since 'e were yer size, yeah."

Aragog peered down at the pudgy creature, uncertain of its species. He could not depend upon his vision nearly as well as he once had, and his sense of smell was providing conflicting messages, including some alarming scents that belonged to serpents -- which conflicted substantially with the sense-knowledge that this 'Harry' was warm-blooded. He could only conclude that Hagrid had been rearing hybrids again.

"When did this one hatch?" he inquired of his friend and caretaker, a question that had been applied to innumerable creatures over the decades. "He must be very new, to be so small, and slow."

"No, no," Hagrid laughed, jostling the Boy-Who-Lived as he clutched his great belly. "'E's a wizard, a year and some months now. Jes' sleepin', I 'spect, since it's night."

Privately, Aragog suspected Hagrid had mistaken this youngling's species; he did not smell like a human. In some ways, this 'Harry' bore a remarkably similar scent to the wizard that had prompted Hagrid's exile from the castle in the first place, that 'Tom Riddle'. It unsettled Aragog to be so near to Harry, but he brushed one hairy foreleg over the youngling's forehead, muttering to himself in the spiders' tongue.

He knew little of the ways of wizards, indeed, but it seemed even  _ that _ wizard, who stank of the feared Basilisk, was bound to reproduce eventually.

"He is injured," Aragog observed, peering closely at the blood.

"Oh, tha's right," Hagrid exclaimed, "I haven' told yeh -- 'arry got rid o' tha' wizard what became of Tom Riddle, tonight." And he told Aragog what he knew of the night's events -- that Harry Potter had been attacked by Tom Riddle, and survived.

By the end of the tale, fat tears were rolling down the half-giant's cheeks, and he blew his nose in a large kerchief taken from another pocket, dabbing at the corners of his eyes. "An' tha's the story of it," he concluded, with a heaving sigh. "Poor 'arry..."

"He is an orphan, then," Aragog observed.  _ Attacked by his sire, even. Such peculiar behaviors of wizards, when they do not even eat each other after. _

"Aye, 'e is," Hagrid sniffled. "Oh, 'arry, yeh poor dear..."

Aragog attempted to rest one leg on the half-giant's shoulder to comfort him. "But he will be better off in your capable hands," he advised. "You are, after all, the most qualified to raise a...wizard, of his nature." What with his extensive experience with hybrid creatures.

Eventually, Hagrid bade farewell to Aragog and his family, returning to his hut just before dawn. He had only just taken a seat by the fire, Fang the boarhound at his feet, when there came a knock at the door. He rose from his chair immediately, opening the door to see the familiar faces of Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall. "Albus, Minerva," Hagrid beamed, "been waitin' for yeh. Come in, come in."

"Rubeus," asked Dumbledore, "do you have Harry?"

"O' course," Hagrid was quick to agree, retrieving the Boy-Who-Lived from the cushion where he lay before the fire. "I, er, forgot where t' bring 'im and came back ter wait for yeh 'nstead."

Minerva glared at Dumbledore, outside the old wizard's field of view. "It is well that you did," she said stiffly.

The Hogwarts headmaster nodded solemnly. "A most fortuitous coincidence," he agreed, "but we must now seek out alternative arrangements for young Harry."

"Oh, er, 'bout tha'," Hagrid stammered. "Aragog thinks I'm raisin' 'im, now, and yeh know how the Acromantula get when they think they've bin lied ter..."

Wizard and witch blinked almost simultaneously, taken aback. "Hagrid," Minerva started slowly, "you don't mean to say you brought Harry into the Forbidden Forest?"

"Aye, Aragog's just 'ad 'is first batch o' great-great-grandbabies, went ter see 'em..." Hagrid trailed off at the alarm in Minerva's expression. "Wha's wrong, Minerva, yeh look like yeh've seen a ghost."

The witch found herself unable to form words to adequately express herself. Instead, she looked on as Albus stooped to examine baby Harry, tracing the end of his wand over the boy's scar. "Ah, it is as I thought," he observed, "yes, the wards have taken, Minerva. I believe Harry will be safest here, after all."

Piercing blue eyes looked into the half-giant's face. "Yes, we shall leave Harry in your capable hands, Hagrid. If you find yourself in need of any help, you may feel free to call on us. For now, I believe it is time for a nightcap."

Then the headmaster departed Hagrid's hut, Minerva trailing at his heels in utter confusion; Harry made a soft noise in the blankets, and went back to sleep, if he'd ever woken up at all, and the half-giant tucked himself into bed shortly after.

"Ter think," Hagrid muttered to himself, "I'd be raisin th' Boy-Who-Lived, meself."

November 1, 1981 dawned over Hogwarts' grounds, beginning a timeline unlike any other.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I headcanon that the blood wards don't actually need a relative to be Harry's guardian, and that they instead latch onto the home of whoever takes him in. Just in case anyone was curious about that.


End file.
